Offshore Job
by Tomoe Harada
Summary: Sequel to Full Time Job: Jango Fett, Boba and Tomoe return to Kamino.
1. Chapter 1-0

Chapter 1.0 – Saying Goodbye (Day 25)

Jango could see how she was a mother of all things; her huge black shadow filled the room all around him while gauzy wings blackened out the moonlight... or was it just the mosquito net swaying in the breeze? Nevertheless he was certain to have the full attention of this... entity... as he spoke, all reasonable and business-like.

'So here's the deal, Moro: I don't care what you are. I'll raise you as my child, protect you and teach you the Mando way of life. But if you hurt Tomoe or your unborn sibling, I'm going to send you to _haran_.'

" _I would expect nothing less of you, dad."_ her voice carried the power of the surge of an eternal ocean as well as the bark of the hunting pack.

'Then I know your name as my child, Moro.' He could rest his case now, and sleep with his most precious in his arms. 'Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad _,_ Moro.'

.oOo.

" _Mom? Mom... don't you think you've forgotten something?"_

Tomoe sighed at the nagging inner voice and snuggled into Jango's embrace. 'What is it, Moro?'

" _You need to go, mom, find 'noko, protect our doctor, quickly."_

Her brain slowly took on speed again. Moro was right, this was a serious problem. 'Oh no... but Jango...'

" _No_ but _, dad's sleeping"._

'What have you done?'

" _I...?"_ Moro snickered _"Good one, mom... we should do that again, you know? It feels like riding the waves in the warm sunshine, playing in the surge, cooled by salty spray."_

'Glad you liked it.' Tomoe avoided shaking her head as she inched out of Jango's hold. He usually had the light sleep of a napping predator, but right now he seemed to be out cold. She pulled the blanket up to his chin carefully, knowing about his even breath and slow pulse from their previous closeness... It was just the helmet staring at her from the top of the armor pile as she lifted the hem of the mosquito net to slip out. What if he had programmed something or was monitoring everything? She better got back home soon and explained her move. 'Where to?' she inquired and Moro guided the way. 'Could you call 'noko and tell him to back off?'

" _Hey, I'm your_ little _one."_ Moro reprimanded her mother _, "_ You _are supposed to take care of_ me _from now on."_ Of course she could have called out to her son, but they needed to accustom to her new live form and she wanted the pack to run together one last time. It was Tomoe's right to do so before she got sucked into the world of men. And the clan had a right to take in the latest news with all their senses.

" _Go go go, mommy, let's go for a swim together!"_ Tomoe's short sprint through the resort's garden ended in the lake that swallowed her with a splash, rings of silver spreading over the water surface under the summer moon. She didn't come up again. Diving with Moro had its advantages. There was no cold, no lack of air.

.oOo.

Jango woke at the single beep of the motion alarum of the helmet systems and listened. His arms were empty under the blanket. Somebody had entered the second room. Reaching for his blaster he found Tomoe's knife was still resting next to it. He had felt it between his ribs, burning like fire when she ripped it out, but tonight its presence meant an entirely new thing: safety and a promise. Tomoe would never leave the blade behind in case of danger. No, she felt safe and planned to return to him the very soon.

The movement outside ended in the small bathroom of the cottage. Water rushed. He stood and moved over cautiously. How she had managed to get that far - without him waking - was still an open point.

"You have a bad influence on me," Jango grinned once he had confirmed it was Tomoe inside. He rested blaster and helmet on the shelf and stepped into shower stall. The water was cool. He wrapped his arms around her in the cramped surroundings, eager to feel her against him once more, to make sure this was real. "I usually have a light sleep."

"Everybody's safe again." Tomoe informed him in calm, low voice. His skin felt so burning hot against hers; he must have noticed something despite her attempt to get back to human spec before meeting him underneath the blankets. Would he get angry again? She rested her hands on his hips, half soothing, half preserving some distance. She looked up with blank face and gave him something else to think about "'Noko and Mird don't like each other's scent, but they agreed to disagree. Walon and the other one, doctor... what was his name?" –

'Oh _fierfeck_... Tomoe had been sneaking around _outside_ \- unguarded! ...how did she know about Mij's profession?' Jango swallowed the lump in his throat, "Gilamar... Mij Gilamar," he inched forwards.

"They don't need to know how close it was... Let's get back into bed." She said flatly, ducked underneath his arm and left the shower to him. She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and slipped a cotton robe over her shoulders.

Jango leaned back and let the luke warm water wash over his face. She was just a little distant, but not pissed or frightened that his comrades had popped up from nowhere in their usual business suits: armored and armed to the teeth. She had accustomed to his profession quickly, and somehow she had known and taken care of things. Of course - Moro...

" _Yes, dad?"_

He snorted water from his nose. Now it even spoke to him in his waking moments! 'Thanks,' anyway...

" _No problem. That was so much fun... Next time I'm reborn, I'll arrange my spirit into a couple."_

'Please no triplets!' Jango fought down his anguish, wiped his face and switched off the shower. 'I'd wait with that decision until you have witnessed a marital argument', he answered dryly, still glad that he had just managed to get around one.

" _No need for prompt demonstrations, dad, I've got plenty of time... and by the way, mom got cold feet."_ the little voice nudged.

'Mando children are supposed to stay out of reproductive activities until their fifteenth birthday." Jango reprimanded the snotty little voice.

" _I'm far older than you, raised more offspring than you, I've even been fifteen a couple of times before..."_

'Your overall age doesn't count for me. You still have months ahead to become something like a baby and years to puberty, so enjoy your reprieve and stop behaving out of character.'

" _You don't want to talk to me?"_ for once, upbeat littleMoro managed to sound hurt.

'I don't mind as long as you grant mom and me a little privacy. Now. It's polite, you know?'

" _And fun."_ her voice faded into a happy whistle.

"Uh oh..." Jango preferred to return his attention to Tomoe. He could see now how this 'goddess' always managed to have the last word.

A knowing smile was stuck on Tomoe's oval face as she lifted the blanket for him. "I didn't remember the name, but I think I have seen him before... golden armor, like Kal, but not quite."

"You did. He's the one who let you go and then patched me up." Jango cupped her cheek while his arm sneaked around her slim waist, "I'm a very lucky man," he pulled her close, "gotta take better care of you." He preferred her sleeping unclothed, but his hands found entrance in the folds of the cotton robe while he nibbled down her neck and shoulder. She had taken a path he could not follow, but she had returned. Her skin had been death cold, but now she warmed quickly to his touch. He was glad that she had closed the matter already in her own delicate way; there were so many exciting things to explore. But he was in no hurry.

"I see... that might take some explanations, that new thing of ours," she leaned into him. Whatever it was, she wondered, but couldn't really grasp a serious thought. He didn't shower in full armor anymore, but a Jango with the helmet on _only_ had been quite a sight. Oh... she couldn't crack up right now, could she? 'Breath, steady...' she commanded herself, fighting down a hysteric giggle that could be misinterpreted as a mocking laugh.

"Yes," Jango nodded in agreement, his breath tickling her skin. Since she had used no soap, she still smelled deliciously of green water and dark humus mixed with predator. "Rest now, _cyar'ika_." This time, he would make sure that she stayed safely in his arms.

His warmth seeped into her and drained the last energies from her. He was so serious and emotional, but what did he plan? He had defined some outlines, but what it meant was a miracle to her. He would give her one of his crocked smiles and she would have to find out. She could only hope that there was enough space for a life of her own within the cutting edges of his deadly strategy. Right now, she was too tired to even worry about that.

Jango listened to her slow, steady breath for a long while before he reached over and checked the recording of his helmet cam. He watched how she first pulled the blanket over his sleeping form carefully, and then left as naked as she was born.

It took a while until her return.

The mere idea of the display enjoyed by any other man tied his gut in knots with jealousy... Jango tried to push the thought away, but it returned and worse, with the possibility of a fellow _Mando'ad_ who he couldn't finish off in a blast to ease his mind. He decided to focus on something productive. How to put his tomboy into Mandalorian iron skin, into proper _beskar'gam_? Which color would she choose? ...Green for duty? Red for her parents? Blue and silver matching his own gear?

.oOo.

 _Recommended music: Evanescence – Bring me to life / Wake me up inside_

In the turquoise blue of the morning, before the first sunrays poked over the mountain ridge, Tomoe woke as she felt her bed mate stir and gently unwrap his arm from around her. He smoothed a strand of hair from her face, his warm breath stroking her earlobe like the wings of a butterfly.

Second thing that came to her mind was that she had revealed her secret, the one nobody could know. He now held the key to her soul, to her loneliness. It scared her a little. How did the guy get there at all? How could Jango still stand her after the horrible news she had given him last night? She was an abnormity!

But strangely, it didn't matter any longer. The steely grip of quiet terror that had held her heart in a vice like grip during the past weeks had cracked like ice at the end of winter. There was no cold, no pain, no remorse, even her fears were gone like shadows, brushed aside by a lover's touch.

They would make it.

"It's still early," Jango whispered. He felt so good that he wasn't sure if this dream could stand bright daylight. His mate had come to him. Twice. He had breathed-in the scent of her hair for a long time, relished in the suppleness of her sleeping form, afraid to wake her when she rested undisturbed and unspoilt in his arms like a flower bud in spring. Her small hand clenched the fingers of his left, her toes nestled between his calves, long warmed. Trouble would catch up with them soon enough. It always did. But right now, she felt real enough to indulge. He was wide awake, full of purpose that readied him with throbbing awareness. He needed to feel more of her, or the burled, tie-dyed cotton robe enfolding her velvety skin would drive him crazy.

As she moved to turn around, the evidence of his arousal pressed between her buttocks. 'Again? Now?' Tomoe stiffened and swallowed as her heart pounded up into her throat. 'Now.' She stilled as his unabashed desire for her sent a wave of need through her entire body, washing away the cobwebs of her mind. "Early enough..."

His palm tingled with the need to caress her. His curious fingers invaded the opening underneath her tousled sleeve, strong arms crushing her against his chest once more. 'Don't hide it', she had requested, "Yes..." But then he became aware that he experienced a moment of peace he hadn't known before. He wanted it to last. He slowed his pace, his hands moving over her smooth curves as he continued his acquisition of her body. Yes, this present he could unpack. He pulled her narrow belt loose and she twisted her arm out of one winged sleeve silently. He eased the fabric down, baring her long neck and finely muscled shoulder to his breath.

A white band highlighted the chinch of her waist as she lifted her hips so he could pull the end of the collar loose. The play of firm and supple muscles against his groin made him twitch with expectation. But then he suddenly hesitated to close the gap between their upper bodies against the morning cold. Tomoe raised her head.

His warm callous hand smoothed up her ribs and a gentle fingertip traced the mark on her mid back. In the gloom ghosting through the upper windows, the _kyr'bes_ was a dirty grey streak on her ivory skin. "It's not permanent," he promised, "I'll wipe it away once we return."

"I mind it no longer..." she reassured him, "it protected me from harm more than once." Tomoe didn't want to remember how or when it had been applied. 'Focus on the future, not the past.' She snuggled against him, urging Jango to return his loving attention to her front side. "Things I told you, how could you bear them?"

"Least thing to do... I wasn't worth your time otherwise." He brushed her concerns away and catered to her urgency. He pulled her back into the heat of his body and cupped her breasts, catching her stiffening nipples between his fingers. He wasn't about to change his mind now ...or ever. "We won't get outta here if you keep moving your hips like that," he told her with a low groan.

"You planned to?" Moving once again, she wiggled out of his hold, stretched away from him and reached for the pillow box with a mocking little smile over her shoulder. She could feel his hungry gaze wander down her spine, sparking desire deep inside her belly.

Jango considered. If he put that tease of a belt-strap clinging to her mid to good use, it would take seconds only to tie and ravish her. But when she twisted back on him, his tender kisses seeking entrance to her lips pinned her down more efficiently than iron manacles. He wasn't being merciful, no, he was just a practical man... who would lay hand on her soon enough.

"Sure, lil' early bird." a faint twinkle was in his eyes as she laid back to catch her breath. He snatched another sound kiss from her as he took the protection, doing his own subtle teasing of her. There was no way she could even make a dent in him, couldn't she see that? With swift fingers, he opened the little package and quickly sheathed himself. "But it's too late now," he purred.

With effortless ease he subdued her sensuous struggles, the great strength of his warrior's body tempered in loving care of her more delicate, feminine form as he held her quivering body. With her guidance, he entered her smoothly to find blessed relief for his throbbing erection. He barely moved his hips, trusting very slowly. Laying on her side, she basked in his embrace, her hand on her belly feeling the deep pulse within, warm and alive.

Jango pressed against her back, gently, lazily as he kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. He was in no hurry to finish. He needed to feel her, to see that it was good for her, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Only that would set him free to fulfill his needs. This new sensual awareness was overwhelming. Cin'ciri trusted him, slept with him, and kept them safe. It evoked feelings that had once been a joyous part of his life, but that had lain dormant, repressed and unacknowledged if not forgotten for a long time.

Tomoe let her eyes drift close, to better enjoy the tenderness in his touch. Whatever the consequences of his ardent use of her body yesterday had been, he avoided upsetting them when he entered her from behind. There was nothing to fear. She left her body to the gentle rhythm of Jango's movement, yearning to become one with him, to be filled, to feel complete.

He felt her stroke him in tune with his rhythm, wrap all around him and worship his maleness. Her flexibility was in stark contrast to his solid bulk. Her exotic slim curves, barely enough to fill his hands with delightful softness, held an unexpected strength that matched and welcomed his trusts. He would never tire to explore their differences, to part that patch of downy hair and rub her into frenzy, to feel her squirm haplessly between his teasing trigger finger and impaling manhood.

Tomoe felt rolled back and forth with the surf of their lovemaking. And then came a wave of heat, rising from her belly into her chest. She was burning. She turned her face to his and opened her mouth to moan out her pleasure but he silenced her with his lips and held her tight as she was washed away with pleasure.

When their lips parted, he buried his face in her tangled hair, his quickened breaths falling hotly upon her neck. He could feel renewed heaviness invade her body. Nevertheless she was voluptuous perfection in his arms. It was his doing only that she was too spent to run, yet the firm muscles that padded her hips confirmed her power to wear his people's full body armor. It spoke to his instincts, telling him that he had chosen a worthy partner. Her clenching tightness around him brought him so close to the edge that he felt the feathery sensation along his spine. But he denied giving in just now. He had to take a hold on that tangible proof of her aptitude with both of his hands and demonstrate his appreciation.

His chest slanted over her back, firmly enough to push them over. He felt her stiffen underneath him in an anticipation of pain, trying to recollect her defenses. "Tomoe..." Jango called out to her, his fingers nudged between hers, resting on her belly gently, supporting her as his thigh brushed over her hamstrings and took his weight. His other hand fisted over her left, anchoring her shoulder. Instead of grinding her into the mattress and loose his comfortable angle, he proceeded to wrap himself around her and gather up her quivering form against his thighs and chest.

To his delight, the slightest withdrawal made her moan and follow his lead to rise on her knees. She granted him deeper access and he wasted no time to put to it to good use. Shaking the robe off her other shoulder, she pushed her bottom out to him and he grabbed her hips. He had to hand it to her as he pounded into her with lustful abandon. She was the one. While he made her his, while he gave himself to her utterly, a sunray danced through the headlights and painted his mark over her arching spine. It was a splatter of light red on white when he lost himself into her core.

Coming down slowly, he leaned over her back and kissed her shoulder, breathlessly. He felt her tremble and clench around him while gravity took them back onto the cooled sheets. When he finally stirred and carefully separated their bodies, she efficiently cleaned them up with sheets of rough paper and then moved to lie beside him. He drew the blanket up to their waists and she turned instinctively into his arms, seeking his body heat. She sighed in contentment as she felt his arms close around her. Her head settled into the hollow of his shoulder, and her arm rested on his chest. He spread the curtain of her hair with gentle fingers, to have a look at the fatigue in her lust glazed eyes while his fingertips explored the soft lines of her face.

.oOo.

When Tomoe opened her eyes again, early sunlight poured through the shutters and streamed across the bedding. She regarded him with growing confidence. He made her see more in him than a killer, that creature of the night enchased in icy metal burning her flesh. His skin shone in the morning sun, taut and golden over solid muscle. There was a dark sheen clinging to his cheek and jaw that felt rougher than it looked. She didn't mind. This sense of belonging was still new to her, but she discovered that she enjoyed the feeling.

She hadn't noticed when the sun had risen. But now it was almost time to get up and start working. There was a bemused smile on Jango's face that said 'c'mon, sleepyhead, ask me another stupid question', while his dark eyes glittered with lust for her. It riled her enough to put her mind on the next steps instead as somebody came down the stairs soundly. Next instant Boba squished through the slide door cautiously and lifted the mosquito net.

'Oh boy...'

This was a new one. It looked like mom and dad had hugged things better without him... and now he wanted his share! Marching through the room head-on, Boba plopped down on the white sheet overlapping the padded blanket. "Good morning," he shouldered his way into the middle of the comfortable nest and slunk his feet under the blanket as well.

"Morning," dad ruffled his hairs. Boba made a face and sorted his hems while his mom pulled her own robe over her shoulders. He recognized that expression - it meant 'tact!' Well, he had made enough noise on the stair to prevent his entry from startling a horde of deaf _banthas_. Otherwise he couldn't care less about tact. Dad was back – and he managed very well without tact, obviously.

Boba leaned back, pulled the blanket a little higher against the chilly air and luxuriated in a stretch. "So what's the plan today?" he inquired. Honestly, it had sounded more like another brawl last night. Usually, mom wasn't too fond of those nightly wrestling matches. How could _both_ sides come out of a fight unbruised and happy anyway?! It was a miracle.

There was another exchange of looks over his head, then Tomoe started "Some cleansing... and paperwork... then I have to pack... I guess." She looked around in the room. They would travel light, no doubt. 'Say goodbye to all that.'

"All you need is some practical clothing, shoes and your favorite kit. Interplanetary accepted currency if you have. Maybe some local meds you are used to." No problem, Jango thought. The rooms were as good as empty, her stuff already stored in a family deposit. "In the meantime, I'll settle the paperwork with Okasan and ready our transport. We can leave after dinner."

"There are some more papers to retrieve, from..." She swallowed. Should she tell him? Could she? His dark eyes suddenly bore into her and she felt cornered once more.

"Vau can get them in the meantime." He said lightly, but made a mental note that her trust was still limited. Well, if Walon didn't like to stand in as errant boy, he shouldn't have come running unasked. The sooner they were done here, the earlier they could return to their duties.

"It's a very personal, religious, thing I have to do myself. It must not be forgotten."

"I see." The sort she could not share before they shared everything. They would get there. "We'll take care of it once you are free to leave the resort."

"That will do." Tomoe slunk out from underneath the blanket, pulled the summer robe around her on the way to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

"...and what's my job?" Boba complained.

He was rewarded a task promptly by his father, "Prepare breakfast." Jango leaned back and rested his ribcage with a self-confident grin. He had left an impression. Cin'ciri was walking funny as well.

The boy decided that basking in the warmth of the blanket was an acceptable option until mom cleared the tiny bathroom, a bucket with steaming water on her hip. In his record, cleaning the verandas and outer chambers would take Tomoe half an hour. Plenty of time for him to get dressed and breakfast going.

Today, it took her ten minutes longer.

.oOo.

Everything looked normal on the outside as she wiped the veranda and the main room of the _Susuki-_ Cottage then her own veranda, the only sounds her own breath and the birds' morning songs. It was like nothing had changed in a century. But once she came back inside to return the bucket, her son rummaged in the kitchen and the doors to the adjoining rooms were half open... a helmet stared at her from the chaos in the living room and there was a _Mando'ad_ with a blank blade in her bathroom.

'I'll never get used to this,' she swallowed. Through the crack of the door she saw Jango run his knife over the sharp angles of his face, his intense gaze catching her in the mirror, watching him. For a moment, a slight smile of amusement softened the lines of his angular face; however he said nothing until he was finished.

" _Cyar'ika_ ," he spoke once he cleaned the knife, finally facing her. Frozen in place, she nearly dropped the bucket. But she didn't find herself pinned against a tiled wall the next moment. "I'll be out shortly," he assured her, turned and began casually disrobing out of his cotton robe. She ducked out of his way quickly to put the bucket away, but he was just matter of fact about it.

His lean muscular frame, the smooth curve of his lower spine and upper thighs was equally well muscled like the rest of him. He bore some scars on his thighs as well, but before she could stare at him some more, he had disappeared into the shower stall. Flushed red she bolted, hiding her face as she wiped the woodwork and fix the gaps in Boba's breakfast preparations.

They had their breakfast in companionable silence, but inside of her, a giant void cracked open as she worked out how to handle her belongings and close any claims. She would have to part of the clothing that had defined her existence in the past years of her apprenticeship, every set full of meaning, and other items that connected her to her upbringing. It was like she was forced to strip again, and not just of a single set of clothing, but of _all_ of them. She was afraid that she couldn't do it.

Approaching the locker cautiously, she just took out some working and winter clothing and bundled everything up. She took the _naginata_ from the rafter, the long sword, the slug thrower, tied them into a long bundle and gathered her collection of blasters into a box, Ariga's 'presents', her flute and some jewelry into another. Norio wouldn't be happy to find those illicit weapons when the cottage was returned in Okasan's care. Or maybe he would be – whatever Jango agreed with Okasan in the meantime. She expected to be called over to the main house any moment. The built-in closets were still filled to the ceiling.

.oOo.

Three hours later, Jango returned with Okasan and the security chief in tow. Instead of piling up luggage, Tomoe was sitting at the low writing table, a roll of paper in front of her. Underneath the stoic mask of the Mandalorian helmet, Jango was pleased to see a manageable amount of baggage. Okay, Tomoe wasn't the queen of Naboo, but _aruetyc_ women were infamous for their impossible travelling habits. No need to admit it, but once or twice he had entertained the idea of hijacking her a second time to avoid lift-off problems with the TIV.

Norio knelt at the door silently. He had hoped that the sins of the past had been pushed into extinction altogether with the old ways, but here was an Okasan who sold off one of the girls to this... offworld-barbarian, using her dept and perverting her sense of responsibility. On the other hand, Tomoe-chan didn't look scared?! Maybe she had found her way indeed. She was a proud one and it showed in her pose.

"Writing your testament, are you?" Okasan knelt beside her in a show of fully developed womanly charm and motherly care, her grief applied as thickly to her face as her make-up as if she was sending her only daughter off into the unknown regions. This Tomoe had attracted a wealthy man to the point of a full grown possession, at least enough to pay for her considerable obligations no questions asked. But she didn't even behave like a remotely desirable female... So what the hell was her trick?

Tomoe sat cross-legged in a navy cloud of the wide pants of the warrior class. A black chest-plate was strapped over a grain-stitched cotton robe. Her hair was up in a bouncing ponytail, two strands of hair escaping the neatly knotted strap of white silk that held her hair out of her face and neck. A man's jacket from tightly woven silk was thrown over the pile of her meager bundles, the round sigils a stark contrast on black.

"I did that before I entered your service. This is just a list of items Ukon-san will need when she supervises this end of the long-time storage procedure."

Okasan cocked her head in surprise. She had told Kabuto-sama that the marriage rituals would take a couple of months at least, since no respectable woman would agree to travel to her intended until a lucky day in the horoscope approached, the celebration was prepared, proper clothing sewn, the agreed presents exchanged... but what she saw here proved her wrong again. Oh, how she hated not to have the last word in her own small kingdom. "Any storage-fees will be charged on your home-account... and don't you forget the _Nanakusa_ -section of the storehouse that has to be cleared out, too."

"...by the end of the month." Tomoe agreed and continued writing. She had split her belongings into a list for storage, for selling and as presents or donations. She had given both her older sister and her lawyer a letter of attorney. The old lady would oversee the packing of the most valuable items and have them stored in the family deposit box.

Ukon would give presents to the last of the staff. She would contact vendors and transfer the revenue to the lawyer to pay for the later rates of rebuilding the store house within the Harada-homestead. The villagers would repair and modify the foundation for a standard-size container. Once it arrived, they would equip it with a traditional roof. Additionally, a state-of-the-art air conditioning would be powered by a tiny hydro-power station behind the ruins of the forge that would also supply the village with energy for limited domestic use and modern communications.

The container would house the rest of her belongings that couldn't be stored economically at the bank and it would demonstrate the unbroken interest of her clan. Tomoe was about to sign and seal the letter for the nearby village's major including the advanced payment made up from her last hard currency. The major would oversee the construction works and have a watchful eye on the installation afterwards. Tomoe folded up her paper work and placed the documents in a lacquered stationary box.

She put on the lid reverently and smiled tightly at her boss. "Do you need my signature for something, Okasan?" Tomoe expected that the news of her absence would be spread once she turned her back on her boss, and if it was just to protect the resort from vengeful visitors. The tale of the scary off-world warrior popping up from nowhere would keep her belongings safe if nothing else.

"Just one more time, Tomoe-chan." Okasan drew a document from her collar. She would get a rid of her most unruly servant once and for all. "We issued an agreement that Kabuto-sama," she bowed into Jango's direction, "buys your complete obligations and it's out of the resort's responsibility whenever or how he commercialises them."

"I see." Tomoe studied the bi-lingual contract calmly and checked with her own papers. "This, this and this belongs into the preparation of my debut which I won't take. Therefore the costs are not to be included."

"That's the advanced payment for the autumn dance promotion at the academy..."

"You will be granted refund by the end of the month since I was excluded by the head of the academy on a mutual basis and somebody else will take my place. It's in the contract with the academy. And those other items, they were not fabricated or delivered yet. Only the advance for the material is lost, not the full amount, and you used outdated values in the balancing factors of commodity prices. The gold prices are sagging due to interplanetary mining possibilities. Speaking of charts, which repurchase value would you suggest for my still frozen sen-ike-shares?"

While Kabuto-sama watched the women juggling numbers impartially or even bored, inside the helmet Jango listened intently to Boba's translation on the voice channel and remembered Oniro's remarks. His boy was dangling feet on the first floor. While he preferred his own contracts plain and simple, Jango had to admit that he had met Toydarians with less patience for financial finesse. Roz would have been proud of his choice of girl.

Tomoe ticked off a couple of other points, but Okasan's face didn't sag for real until she deducted the amount remaining on her home-account. Her gain of the contract value was cut in halves by Oniro's considerable refund. Until then, Okasan had admitted most minor points in the hope to gain control of her well filled account by the argument of monthly storage rates during her absence, now her servant emptied it to a black zero from one moment to the other.

"You might need a little pocket money wherever you go, my dear."

"That would be republic credits, not local currency. I would like to avoid the costs of another exchange." Another thought came to her mind. She had nearly missed it in the ruckus. "What about the costs of Oniro-sama and Kabuto-sama's stay?"

"They are charged on Oniro-sama's account as usual."

She had little difficulties to imagine Jango's croaked grin, but it would be bad style and not a good start for their relationship to charge the go-between on top of his discomfort and valiant efforts. "Cover that from my home-account instead. The rest shall be used to reduce my dept. Please ask your secretary for an advanced bill while I rewrite this."

Norio arched a brow. A moment ago, in Okasan's office, Kabuto-sama had offered about any sum, demonstrated potent wealth as well as poor style. Nevertheless, Tomoe was digging down to the last position for discounts. He had hoped that after some haggling she would somehow pull the remaining amount from her sleeve, throw it at Okasan and tell Kabuto-sama to leave her alone, but now she charged her own account ...when she didn't have to?

Tomoe rewrote the second sheets of the agreement with the clear letters of a seasoned accountant. After all the corrections, there were still nearly three thousand credits open which she didn't have. Not with the construction activities at the Harada-homestead.

"I agree that you transfer those obligations to Kabuto-sama," she affirmed in writing and passed the paperwork back to Okasan who in turn approached the armored 'guest' standing in polite distance of the desk. A credit chip and some paper changed hands. Then with a deep bow, Okasan moved past the armored bounty hunter and left. Norio was slow enough to follow his boss to witness the deeds of the mercenary following his purchase...

Jango handed the folded sheets back over the writing desk without a second look into them. A 'mother' selling her parentage for a handful of credits - he clearly preferred to be called a barbarian over being such a pervert. "I'd burn that right here, _cyar'ika,_ but I don't trust your _dar'buir_. Please keep them save for us for as long as it is needed."

"Thanks." Tomoe placed the rinsed brush on a holder. She didn't notice that she had been clenching it before she took the documents.

"Are you packed already?" Jango inquired evenly.

"Just one more thing before I go to see Ukon-san." Tomoe put the folded sheets in the box with her jewelry and stood to her feet, moving over to a small stand in the alcove. She sorted out some decorative items, locked and lifted it off the shelf as if it rested more heavy on her hands than its size would suggest. "Don't worry. This will stay at the temple," she explained. If she died so far away from home, nobody would know what to do with the shrine. She couldn't face that option. "I have to leave now, but I'll ask a good person to take care of them in my absence."

He had expected that she would get emotional at one point. 'Here we go.' In the 360°-display, Jango made sure that Norio had closed the door from the outside before he took off the helmet. "Not a big issue, Tomoe, pack it in," he tried to ease her mind. Religion again. He simply had no clue of that.

"The family shrine needs to stay where their spirits feel at home... I... it would be my duty, but I have to follow my own path... maybe they will understand... I believe some of them will." She bit back her tears defiantly. "No need to pray in front of a shrine while I carry a goddess under my heart."

' _Damn right.'_ – 'No cursing, Moro.' Jango reprimanded the little voice mechanically and pulled Tomoe into his embrace, their chest plates clanking. "You'll be alright, _cyar'ika_... what else did you pack... how about the robe you've worn at our first dinner?" he proposed.

"Won't need that where I go," came her quick answer.

'She's such a bad liar,' Jango recognized. "Who says that you can't wear it from time to time? I liked it a lot... and I haven't even seen you dance yet." He nudged his nose against hers, tipping her face up to kiss her gently. "Who's going to believe me if you don't bring proof?"

"Believe you... what?" He whispered it into her ear and Tomoe suppressed her laugh, slapping his chest plate with a low chuckle.

"Please add one set of formal clothing for you and summer robes for the three of us, ma'am," Jango pulled a straight face and replaced the helmet to inform Vau and Gilamar. He would give Tomoe a little privacy to say goodbye to Ukon and then they would be on their way.

.oOo.

Boba pushed the fairytale book from the alcove and his notepad into his little treasure of local clothing before they went to see aunt Ukon. Thankfully, his mom cried no more. She just outlined her intentions and went over her list of open points in unemotional voice then passed Ukon the stationary box and bowed.

Boba had taken it casually - of course mom was coming home with them - until he saw Ukon lose all color underneath her makeup. With a little shriek, the old lady quickly raised her sleeve in front of her face. Hey, dad didn't bomb the resort flat - they were just doing the decent thing?! He listened transfixed to his mother's low words, insuring Ukon it would be alright.

"You can do it, Onesan. For me, you can. It doesn't matter to me any longer. _I_ don't matter any longer, only the next generation does. I want to safe-keep what they need - even if that means I have to part from some fading stuff."

Boba padded over and plopped down beside his aunt's knee. He didn't know what she was grieving for, but he would hug her better. Always worked.

"Change of rules?" Ukon finally shook her head and stroked Boba's cheek. "Again?" That wasn't fair. They had worked so hard for younger sister's debut. Tomoe was a beautiful, talented young artist who should be cherished, stay at home and never even think of bloodshed. And her little one, he deserved to grow up safely into a gentle giant. But Ukon knew from painful experience that the resort couldn't grant them safety anymore.

"Some rules change, others – never. The one that held us together, my honored older sister, it now drives us apart." Needless to say that it was unlikely to see Ukon-san again in this lifetime. The old lady had made her a new being and she had kept her alive in return. Now their association was suddenly over and Tomoe didn't know what to say. She bowed and inched backwards to the door on her knees.

It was a weak consolation, but Ukon didn't want to let her leave without the words, "Farewell, Tomoe-san, Boba-chan." The boy clung to her neck briefly, and then rushed out to follow his mother. Ukon locked her eyes on the box with the Harada family crest sitting on her desk. Later, after she had delivered all those letters, she would voice the grief that Tomoe had to bury deep inside. Because that was her destiny. The small one's happiness at his father's arrival gave her hope and helped her to heal her heart.

"Farewell, Onesan." Tomoe slid the door close in front of her before she rose and walked the garden path back to the Nanakusa-Cottage. Ten minutes later, the chauffer arrived with a helper to pick up their luggage and take them out to the landing area.


	2. Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1.1 - The Prophecy

Tomoe took the picnic basket and a little box from the helper who usually worked in the kitchen and stored the luggage underneath the crew benches while Jango completed the pre-flight checks. Until now, their improvised repairs held up nicely. "Where to?" he asked.

Tomoe studied the charts and picked out a landing location. The area sacred to the war-god was in the centre of the provincial capital. "Drop me off behind the ridge at this station. I take the train into the centre. I'll be back within the hour," she promised. The listening device and heart monitor dangled from Jango's gloved hands as she looked up again. She unlatched the chest plate to slip the sensory underneath. "Will attract less attention this way," she explained, his clipped tone getting to her. At least he lengthened her leash enough to allow her to clean up behind her. And afterwards?! She did not know - she could only trust her emotions.

The mixture of male and female clothing items she was wearing would raise eyebrows. But then, she had a serious request, one she would never voice if she wasn't the last of her clan and leaving for an undefined time and place. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault that she was female. There was nothing left of her father's life in duty than his jacket and his name plate in the altar-case. Nevertheless he was with her, would live forever in her memory. As long as she lived... and the kids she was going to rise. "Would you like to come with me?" she asked her son.

Boba considered, and then decided "Nay." Ceremonies he didn't understand made him uncomfortable and he would rather ask dad a couple of plain questions about last night while his tactful mom was away. Everything was better than being stared at in a public transport. Jango brought the TIV down. "Alright." Tomoe placed the chest-plate on the seat, took her bundle and left for the station. Without the thrill of the hunt, the wait was dull. But whatever eased her mind and helped Cin'ciri to overcome the culture shock was a good thing. Jango unwrapped a nutribar and shared lunch with his son while listening to his _cyar'ika_ 's steady heartbeat and the voices around her.

Tomoe walked over an arched bridge, through the main gates of the compound and around the main sanctuary. She asked a shrine maiden for the whereabouts of the priest and found him in the office building. Enshrining her father and grandfather wasn't a problem due to their vita. In fact, her granduncle's name was already on the shrine's scroll by governmental edict. But here she was, trying to transfer the house altar with her whole family to the shrine's treasure house. It took some persuasion, a dynastic heads-up to the founders of the temple and the donation of Ariga's gold bars, and then her ancestry had a new home.

"Two weeks ago, I have sent you a letter with an envelope for save-keeping, Kannushi-sama. As you know, my life undergoes serious changes in the moment, therefore I would like to access my family records before I leave planet."

The old priest shuffled in with the archive-box a moment later, arranging his enormous white and purple wing-sleeves when he sat down. "Here you are." The pressure resting on the young woman was obvious to him, but so was her strength that bordered to stubbornness. Leaving planet?! He could just pray that she wouldn't do anything stupid that made him welcome another member of this unlucky family under a death name.

Tomoe flipped through aged pages of birth- and death names of her ancestors in front of the gods, records of the marriage ceremonies of her parents and grandparents held within the walls of this shrine. Nowadays, all her legal files including her testament and amendment including Boba were data records on an anonym computer core, but the crisp sheets still whispered to her. The mindfulness of the priest rested on her, making her feel that she was still... somebody. She returned everything to the box but the sealed envelope that was marked to be published upon her demise or disappearance. He would have done so, no doubt. She checked the seal for cracks and stored the rustling envelope underneath her collar next to Jango's monitoring device before she bid the priest farewell.

Somewhat relieved, she went to drop a small coin in the box at the sanctuary, rung the bell and said her prayer in silence.

'Pretty obvious.' Jango thought as he spotted the white envelope under her collar. He didn't need a translation to smell the trap. Last will on paper - old stylish, but impossible to slice from the outside without attracting attention. Good that Tomoe was already doing her own clean-up before some noisy cleric kicked up a stink and he had to take severe safety measures. Not that her trick ever had a chance to succeed. With the recce of the Nulls, experienced _Cuy'val Dar_ like Gilamar and Vau would have listened into the official communications and prevented the effect of her testament before their cover was blown.

"Can we RV now and leave planet?" Jango asked when Tomoe ducked back into the cockpit.

"Let's inform Vau and Gilamar on the way," Tomoe pulled up the charts for navigation "Just one more shrine, then we can leave."

"Okay." Jango took the TIV to the RV coordinates of the two Mandalorians and fought his impatience. Why was everything taking so long? 'Another one?' he noted. "Can't you have that scanned and the data sent to our mailbox?" he asked innocently.

"It is sealed to be opened at my disappearance or demise, so I assume you wouldn't want this opened." Tomoe told him flatly. "The document we signed together is still in place, Boba," she informed the boy.

"Uh... I don't want anything of that." Boba shook his head and strapped in.

"Neither do I," his father agreed. Maybe her traps weren't so simple after all.

.oOo.

Vau and Gilmar had chosen a small clearing for RV-Point and holed up in there since the morning hours, waiting for the outcome of their leader's negotiations. They had thrown a camouflage net over their TIV that would shield the gap in the plant growth from bypassing aircrafts view. To fit into the clearing as well, Jango had to bring the TIV down so close to the other that the landing ramp couldn't be extended.

Tomoe jumped out of the bottom hatch of the TIV and lifted Boba to the ground "Uh... you get too heavy for that." She took a lacquer box from his hands. Jango walking close behind her calmed her nerves as she circled the spanners of the camouflage net and approached the other vessel in a wide arch, holding the box in front of her with both of her hands. Vau was the very opposite of a hothead, but even an enraged Gilamar would not shoot her in such close proximity to his leader… at least not before she opened her mouth, or so she hoped.

While Vau straightened out his tall frame lazily, Gilmar was out front and studied the _aruetii's_ approach. Wide skirt pants brushed the high grass with fluid grace and hid most of her leg-work. A chest plate and a black shiny jacket completed the androgen appearance. The sword under her belt lifted the hem of her jacket, adding bulk. Not a hair out of place, she was a polished reflection of a native warrior of old, civilized and educated. Not a face any man would forget, though. But like a clone she could retreat underneath a mask and create a private space that nobody else could enter. That mask was nothing like the soft sleeping expression of the girl who Jango had held in his arms, warm and exhausted, tousled and peaceful when he was requested to scan her two nights ago.

This wasn't the time for pity. Gilmar had seen her explode into bloodshed, half-naked in a circle of strangers with her head held high, wielding Vau's _bes'kad_ against his leaderwith deadly efficiency. He knew how quickly her serenity could flip into violence - and back. _Shab_ , it had even enabled her to slip out under _his_ blaster point, when she gave him the image of a doting mother when she had just butchered the father, his leader and his _Mand'alor_. For now, it was nice that her hands were filled and kept in plain sight. They were still arguing back on Kamino how the little _aruetii_ had managed that stab and what would be the outcome of her court martial. The opinions stretched from 'death by torture' to 'can't blame the poor fella for trying'.

Personally, he got no kick out of those considerations anymore. It was awkward to find himself on the same side as Reau and Priest, but once Skirata and Bralor had filled him in, Gilamar had put off his initial idea of taking a rusty scalpel to the alleged traitor and cut out a trophy. They had found her, but this wasn't the moment to show Harada what it meant to make a bad enemy with a Mandalorian with anatomical expertise. The project came first and it was _Mand'alor_ 's job to sort out his private life. It was impossible to disregard the surprising fact that Fett and Harada seemed to be an item now. 'Floating on your body's own opiates, are you?' he wondered. Anyway, one couldn't hurt a masochist with pain.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. _N'eparavu takisit_ ," Tomoe added at once and bowed with straight back, "thank you for helping me to correct my past mistakes." She would have preferred to talk face to face instead to a T-shape visor embedded in a sand-gold helmet, but Gilamar was on guard and it wsn't her place to blame him for that.

How many _aruetii-_ chicks would to walk up like this to a _Mando'ad_ they had creamed? It was probably Fett breathing down Harada's neck that gave her such a backbone. But despite her polished appearance there was no arrogance in her words that smacked off faded nobility or freshly hatched Mando-queen. "You've sorted out yourself?" Gilamar simply asked and looked at her blankly for several beats, giving her a warning of serious displeasure, before he decided her excuse sounded honest enough. He took the box and placed it aside with a quick check of his glove sensors.

"Yes, Sir." Tomoe bowed in thanks for his acceptance but she wouldn't give him the pleasure of exploiting her anguish, her uncertainty. "I will accompany you off-planet in a moment. We agreed to raise our kids together," she put out to the _Cuy'val Dar_. What was the thing of Jango and her? She could not tell.

Gilamar noted she wasn't boasting of a marriage with Fett. Despite the mask she was wearing, she was herself and she had the spirit to resolve her problems on her own. "Not giving me so much trouble again, will you, little one?" He stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at Tomoe. There had been no explosives in her gift, no poisons that his sensors recognized.

Vau's endearment was spreading, it seemed. By now, she had so many names that Tomoe didn't really know who she was or what she would become. She just knew she would survive. The guy didn't look like a doctor; but that he had put Jango back together spoke for his competence more than his appearance. "I dearly hope I won't give you too much trouble, Gilamar-sensei, when I ask to kindly aid me with your medical expertise when my time comes."

"Good." Gilamar bowed theatrically, his armor creaking. He preferred to keep things simple. "Report for medical examination when you're settled in." With that, he winged his attention to his boss with an inquiring tilt of his helmet.

"We pick up one more document, and then go back. Follow us out of the atmosphere with linked controls. We've got an approved flight plan." Fett filled them in.

Like a dark sentry, Vau went to pull the camouflage net from the airframe while Gilamar returned inside to do the pre-flight checks. Walon had a look at the repaired TIV as well. "Are you sure that crate will hold together after what you did to it?" he asked Jango and took out a hand-scanner, banging against the landing gear and the airframe with his armored gauntlet.

"You tell me." Jango waited patiently while Tomoe followed the _Cuy'val Dar's_ every move. So eager pull her weight yet so afraid to make a mistake. Whenever she lived up to other's standards or not, it didn't matter – she wasn't alone anymore and her mere efforts to belong made him happy, couldn't she see that?

"One should think you were done sightseeing." Vau criticized, cautiously and multilayered as usual since 'Done with the wild debauchery?' probably wouldn't cut it with Fett.

"Just one more shrine." Jango gave back and placed a gloved hand on Tomoe's shoulder and massaged lightly. It had been a bit of an awkward moment, but it all ended friendly enough, didn't it?

"Never mind." Vau straightened up, carefully not to bang his head on the airframe. Time to inform the resourceful young lady that Mird lived up to any hide-and-seek-game her black retriever came up with. There had been plenty of time to repair his EMP-fried helmet-systems including the night-vision. Being on the outlook last night had provided him with most entertaining sights of her running with the pack… naked. "It's okay, my dear, you can join the gang as a _grease monkey_ ," his rich resonant voice resounded in her ear as he walked past her.

For a moment, Tomoe wasn't sure if Walon wanted to insult her by bestowing another nickname on her or if she had just taken the formality a step too far. "Thanks," she managed to choke out.

.oOo.

Vau seemed very pleased when he squished past the empty bacta-tank in the hold of their own TIV and dropped into the pilot's seat. "I have an uncanny knack for helping folks realize their full potential," he congratulated himself.

"Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. All that aggravation about the baby coming seems to be forgotten." Mij chuckled but didn't take his eyes from the scanners as the TIV lifted out of the frame of trees to follow Jango's lead. They didn't need trouble with the local air force. "All dressed up and ready to go... are they married already?"

" _Mand'alor_ 's overwhelming freight-train-charm suggests that there could be pockets of resistant left underneath that overrun fortress... Now he has to work his way down there level by level to be safe."

"Which might take a while." Gilamar sighed. This was getting old. He didn't mind sightseeing and getting a little sunshine on his face after all those years on Kamino. It was a nice country side with cute little farms and tidy emerald fields but his idea of the ideal retirement for a country doctor didn't include a rural population scared witless by 'aliens' in their backyard. Not if he was the alien.

"Fett didn't exactly drop his plates for the first girl who smiled at him, but with a little practice, I guess the ol' boy will get the hang of it soon." Vau sat down his flawless vessel on a dirt track, precisely next to Fett's battered crate. He listened to the ticking of the cooling engine, steepled his fingers and wondered if it was worthwhile to throw on their camouflage again. " _Aruetii_ tend to take more time for the paperwork than for the act."

Gilamar's initial statement in the meeting had been clear enough to be provided with the less relaxed viewpoints among the _Cuy'val Dar_. "When she gets back without his full protection and somebody takes vengeance into his own hands, then that's her very bad luck," he warned and had a careful look at the contents of the box. It had been decades since he had gotten such a gallant present. He unlatched his helmet.

"Married or not, she's the social talent and he'll watch her back." Vau replied. Not to mention the unsettling habit of picking her up which he seemed to develop about the little woman.

"Hmmm... _jat'isyc_." Mij leaned back and took another bite of the assorted cakes. "Didn't know insults could taste that good."

"Maybe you could rile her to the point of throwing one or two ' _mir'sheb_ ' at your head, and then encourage her to make up for it?" Vau proposed.

.oOo.

Tomoe gave Jango the next set of coordinates. The second location was an obscure shrine hidden in a pine groove on a hillside overlooking the fields. It was dedicated to the gods of the good harvest, just like thousands of others scattered over the countryside in places the population felt was special.

The documents were protected by nothing than the pair of fox statues at the entrance and a commoner who took care of the grounds for his village committee. The old man limped over from a nearby house to hand Tomoe a similar envelope and a longish one from a large trunk. She took them from his brawny hands with a bow and he hurried back home. Why the all grown-up Harada-san was wearing a sword and armor again, he could not tell, but it was always wise to stay out of the way of warriors.

Jango stood in front of the stairs that led up to the open doorway that looked like a giant face staring him down. He stared back and was very aware of his heavy, dusty _cetare_. He realized they would never have put their boot on Cin'ciri's little cache here. The place was by no means official enough to effect a testament. How somebody here would have known of her demise? Through the grapevine, most likely. Follow that, _gaijin mir'sheb_.

Meanwhile, Boba had slipped his sandals off his feet and explored the sanctum, his small, freshly washed hands smoothing over the double ring of nails on the rim of a huge drum sitting in the gloom with fascination, the symbol of thunder in eternal rotation on the aged hide. 'Anybody here?' the boy could barely reach up to the membrane to pat it. ' _I'm here_ ,' its huge red belly hummed like a sleeping animal.

"You comin, Boba-chan?" Tomoe called softly, bowed out of the sanctum and went to the cold fireplace used for the preparation of food-sacrifices. Maybe the boy would be more interested next time. Kamino would not last forever.

"This tells what happened to me." She knelt and joined the envelope from the shrine with the envelope from her collar, held it over the brazier, lit a match and made sure both letters burned completely into white ashes. He noticed the contents had been shredded. Those papers weren't her testament at all, just a nasty little machination she spread around underneath the official recognition for worst case, finely intermeshed with the traditional networks only a local could know. " _Cin'vhetin_ , Jango." Tomoe looked up, then stood and unfolded the ends of the longish wrapping. She passed Jango the crisp single sheet with both of her hands. In the shadows of the veranda, the black letters swirled with the smoke still billowing from the brazier "And this tells what will happen."

"The future?" The T-shape visor locked on her and awaited further explanation. 'Great - more superstitious _poodoo_.' If she knew everything beforehand, she could have avoided certain unpleasant experiences easily. Instead she enacted forgiveness and followed him. She would leave her homeworld – maybe forever. Why? He did not know. If manipulations were impossible anyway, he didn't want to know.

"From a limited viewpoint," Tomoe admitted.

"It was given to you." Didn't she know that he couldn't read it just like that anyway? "Thanks for sharing. In a couple of years, I'll compare your prophecy." Jango re-folded the sheet to a smaller size and rolled it up to let it vanish in his utility belt.

Tomoe nodded her agreement. She had received disjointed pictures only, but even if the images connected it wasn't automatically a blessing to know one's future. Jango knew very little, nevertheless he had made a wise decision.

He pulled her in his arms. What counted for him was that she had given up her safety measures to him and he had nothing to give her in return, nothing but his word he would not hurt her again. It crossed his mind that it wasn't enough.

But he could see she was still hiding things from him, not sharing everything. Did he share everything? No, he had his shortcomings as well. He could not push that by asking her to swear an oath with him that wasn't heartfelt. Since they had made up and agreed to go back to Kamino they could always try later.

"You trust me now?" He felt her nod against his chest plates and cradled the back of her head in his gloved hand, massaging lightly. "Maybe you shouldn't. Yes, maybe you shouldn't, Tomoe. Just celebrate the moment... no past, no future, embrace what we have now, together, my love."


	3. Chapter 1-2

Chapter 1.2 – Return to Kamino (Day 26)

Jango left the ground-to-air-communication to his co-pilot and concentrated on maneuvering in the weak areas of the radar until Vau had linked controls with him, and the TIVs where flying close enough to appear as a single dot on the screens of the planetary flight control. After the last polite exchange in native language, Tomoe had grown silent while the TIV's nose pushed through the cloud sheet over the bronze mirror of the sea below and headed for the higher atmosphere. First the deep blue and then the velvety blackness of emptiness surrounded them.

"Are you sad? Why?"

"I'm thinking." Tomoe felt drained, as if she had taken a written exam and didn't know if she had passed yet. Her right hand and shoulder felt cramped. Well, she had written a lot but that didn't explain the tightness in her throat. Jango told her he loved her. Wasn't that enough? What did it mean at all? She had given up a big deal, but at least she could pride herself to have done a little something. "Isn't it funny how things I have put off for so long now become reality in no time?"

"You were made for it. You are a beautiful woman." Jango realized his compliment sounded a little choppy, but he planned to show her his full appreciation when they came home.

He was talking of the twins; she had been talking of her re-construction project that would be completed in her absence. She wouldn't see results for years. Jango was right; she had to get back to the here-and-now. The assassins' chest plate pressed on her collar bones, not to mention the other places it pinched or bulked. It had been a statement to Gilamar that she was ready to take on the _resol'nare_ , but it wasn't made for her or any woman or to sit in a chair. "I've got to wear armor, haven't I?"

Jango agreed without hesitation. "Nothing but top-grade beskar, too. Only the best for my girl... and a sturdy pair of boots to start with."

He transferred his calculation of the hyperspace-jump to the other TIV before they split their formation to safe distance for interstellar travelling, then he pulled back the lever. Stars became streaks over the cockpit screen.

To her, his voice sounded husky and possessive and with the rapidly spreading distance to what she knew, it was all too much. She unbuckled the seat belt and soundlessly went for the picnic basket pass dinner around and to keep at least her hands busy. The familiar scents and tastes were soothing.

.oOo.

Tomoe had napped in the co-pilot's chair during most of the hyperspace jump and Boba was sound asleep on the crew-bench, kept safe by a couple of seat belts, wrapped in the blanket that had hidden her weapons from the resort's chauffeur. From here on, she would be respected for armor and weapons and her abilities to wield them, while the image of the pampered, well manicured lady faded away. Would she miss it? She decided that she had other things on her mind.

It was hours past midnight when they arrived in the Tipoca airspace, a night storm shaking the vessel violently until the TIVs dove through a force field and into the white calm of a pristine hangar. Jango shut down the engine, crossed the flight-deck and readied an anti-grav-slide. Conversing briefly with Vau and Gilamar in rapid _Mando'a_ , he left it to Tomoe to unload her limited amount of luggage. Better not let her stray and see the bacta-tank as an alternative to her homecoming.

Content that his _cyar'ika_ carried not only her sheathed halberd in her hand but also a serious piece like the slug-thrower over her shoulder, he picked up Boba, sat the sleeping kid on his hip and put the slide into follow-mode. Explanations to the other Cuy'val Dar could wait till fall-in. Their appearance made clear to any by-passer that he was a proud father coming home with his missus. Details would follow after a good night's sleep.

Was he expecting her to move in with him at once? Tomoe wondered. She had agreed to go back, she was no longer scared by his physical approach, but they were not an item, not officially at least. He told her he loved her, but that she shouldn't trust him. Never mind, that was a long way to go. She chewed on the crack on her lower lip the sea monster had left. What would the others think of her? That Fett had punched his slave girl back in line to screw her at will while she jumped at his command... and others', come to that? There, Fett moved past her own tiny flat in full stride. It seemed that the possibility of objections never crossed his mind. She could not throw a tantrum on the corridor, but she could not let him overrun her like that again.

Jango could feel her hesitance and anxiety and remembered the eyebolts were still in the walls of the living room and master bedroom. 'Oups.' He halted the slide in front of their door, unlocked it and did the one thing that would divert Tomoe's attention sufficiently for quick adjustments: passing mommy their sleeping little schemer. She barely managed to lean her pole arm into the corner inside the door before the small one's arms closed around her neck in half sleep.

'Gotcha' Jango grinned as she supported the black mop of curly hairs against her jaw and moved on to Boba's room. He pushed the anti-grav-slide through the corridor in front of him before he unlatched his helmet and corrected his lapses with the eye-bolts quickly. He staked his armor, stored the tools and got ready for bed.

Strangely, Tomoe did not resurface to brush her teeth. When he came looking for her, the black formal jacket and skirt pants were neatly folded over the back of a chair, the chest plate on the seat, the slug thrower leaning next to it. Her pair of swords was reunited on the night stand. Cin'ciri had curled up around Boba with her back to him. The two of them had their traditions, alright.

Damn.

.oOo.

Jango went to sleep in his own bed which appeared larger and emptier than ever. But he had to admit that he was a bit tired of night after night sleeping in a pilot-seat or keeping up his attention around the clock because the only thing parting him from unknown enemies were paper-screens and wooden walls which he could kick down without a run-up. Next time they shared their passion, they would enjoy more privacy. He looked forwards to that and yawned with the calm of a sated predator.

He woke at the usual time, luxuriated in a leisurely stretch, flung the sheets aside, and, still in the nude, padded to the bathroom to make himself presentable, a fresh body-glove over his arm. No fatigues - when he was to introduce Tomoe formally at fall-in, full _beskar'gam_ was called for.

Apparently, Tomoe shared his opinion, when she appeared in the tunic and short pants she slept in and passed him on the way into the living room with a low "good morning". No kiss? She did not unpack or store things in the closet of master bed-room, either. At least five Twilek-dancers could have dressed for _their_ modesty in the fresh set of undies that she retrieved from a bundle on the slide before she vanished in the bathroom.

The door locked from the inside with a decent click.

Jango armored up in the storage with a little sigh. Ten minutes later she re-appeared spick and span - including lipstick - and left the bathroom to Boba while she went back into the kids' room. He watched her knot the skirt-pants around her mid in speedy routine and strap on the chest-plate. She re-adjusted her knife, pushed the saber under her belt horizontally and reached for the jacket.

He stepped in, painfully aware that he could not kiss her without smearing her makeup... 'that's worse than wearing a helmet,' he reasoned, "Gimme a hint, _cyar'ika_ , what did I do?" he nudged his knuckles between hers. She did not withdraw her hand but everything about her was restless and ready to go. Thankfully, she didn't try to be invisible any longer. "C'mon, make yourself at home, come for me..."

"Nothing... I'll get used to it... but how can I expect people to respect me... when I lounge around in your bed all morning... like a common whore?" her voice was low but that scolding pitch broke through anyway. It dawed and –shame- she had to get out of her lover's place at once or she would be caught in the act.

"No," he protested as the door buzzer went, "We talk... later." he bit out. He was afraid she had chosen the worst moment to start bitching, but she continued to organize the sleeves of her jacket silently while he answered the door. It wasn't Vau to see them to the training grounds, but Skirata, accompanied by a clone, who...

Tomoe took a measured step forwards and suddenly there was no air left in the free space inside the door, no area the lightning bolt of her blade could not strike if she drew blank. Not from the looks of him but from his body language she could tell this was _not_ Mereel. Prudii? Unlikely, even in defense against an – assumed - assault, Mereel's brother had kept his cool. This kid was seething in anger underneath the composure that was probably enforced by his father. Nevertheless, his eyes burned in a dark fire.

"Good morning, Kal." She said amicably and kept Boba behind her, her left thumb perched on the hand-guard of her saber. It spoke for Skirata that he tried to resolve their issues in a smaller circle. While Gilamar's grief was based on a semi-public loss of face that she could make up for by a public excuse, her problem with Kal ran deeper. She had actively threatened and hijacked him and she could not say that she felt sorry without lying. She had done so to stay alive when he had failed to guarantee for her safety first-place. Both of them knew that the deal had been an illusion from the start, but a lengthy, one sided excuse would make the degradation worse.

Since Skirata made no move to introduce the boy, Tomoe continued to speak, "I trust you returned home safely?"

"Barely." Skirata's blue eyes were icy, his right arm stretched along his body. Their deal was off. He was here to see if Fett had managed to find a solution during his trip. If so, he had to make sure that Ordo didn't do anything stupid while he wasn't looking. Junior was even angrier than him, held back not by command but by trust in his father's experience and reason only. If this woman gave his family trouble again, Kal would put her to rest, no matter if she had had a bad day or a hard youth. No matter what fancy garments and weapons she had picked up on the way - nobody hurt his sons.

Tomoe felt no urge to find out if Kal could drop his knife quicker than she could draw her sword. Her focus came to rest on the fine muscles over his collarbones that would have been hidden by his jacket if he wasn't keeping his other arm between his son and the entrance. She would know if he started on her. She let him see that she knew.

"I am sorry to hear that," she emphasized the fact that she thought very highly of him. She did not want Kal or his sons to be hurt, but if he forced a devil's choice on her, she would always choose her own kids.

"Not your fault that Slave I didn't unlock full weapon controls." Yes, he remembered she had neither been brutal nor taken chances that forced him into an attack of opportunity. She had taken a chance just to let him go home to his kids safely. He couldn't blame her for that, nor blame her for Mereel's suffering Vau's and Ward's brutality. The question was – would it happen again _because_ of her? Or would she play an active part it putting things right? "Now, do we have to take that hull apart looking for an IED?"

"Just a faint," and quite a successful one, but she wouldn't linger on that. "How is Mereel?"

"Trying hard to look fit to fight..." – 'oh,' there went her hope to turn the conversation into a more positive direction, "...since Ward and Vau threw him into a holding cell two weeks ago."

"That could necessitate another readjustment," Tomoe agreed and welcomed his 'you're not the only one who made mistakes' with a nod, "I'll do what I can whenever it suits his schedule."

Unbroken, sharp, ladylike, defending her young. Kal gathered her state of mind. Nervous - which was understandable - but with an all new air about her, a deeper confidence that he could not account for. Jango seemed to be a little irritated, but the strings between him and Tomoe appeared stronger than ever. It wasn't all possessive pride. Beside his trademark real-time risk-gain assessment, Kal saw respect and a struggle for understanding as well. Tomoe had built her means of defense, but at the same time, the necessity to fight had faded.

Being a failure himself when it came to conjugal life, he could see that this relationship wasn't a bed of roses. But the utter madness he had witnessed, the misery and deceives were aired out. 'Give them a chance,' Kal decided. "I'll relay your offer," he said with a nod. His shoulder relaxed noticeably and he slumped a little, shifting weight off his broken ankle.

"Good." Jango nodded. "First day out of house arrest, Ordo?" he inquired over Tomoe's head. She wondered how he managed to tell the clones apart. The boy inclined his chin stubbornly. "Your home-work was useful to sort things out." Ordo lifted his head at the rare compliment and Jango wasted no time to top it up with a serious warning. "They are sorted now - _tayli'bac_ , _verd'ika_?"

Ordo finally agreed, but only because it was what Kal'buir wanted. " _Gar serim_." He would not give up, but he would not stand up against his dad. He had to find out what exactly clouded his father's judgment and watch out for the next assault to resolve the Harada-case permanently. He couldn't care less about the lippy little jerk the traitor had used to get away. He would shove Boba down the toilet again right after sending the _aruetii_ to _haran_. Until then, the _aruetii_ had a use to ease Mereel's pain that resulted from the ruckus she had caused – while he was watching her through the scope of his DC-15.

Jango donned his helmet. Direct order was a wonderful way to hand out forgiveness. She didn't want to spend the mornings in his bed – well, Tipoca offered plenty of options to make herself useful with the talents she had. If that earned her some public respect among the _Cuy'val Dar_ \- just the better.

.oOo.

"Listen up." Jango stepped in front of the line-up with her, "This is Tomoe Harada. She's new to military training but accomplished with blades, close combat and chiro-therapy. To get her started, she will assist Sergeant Skirata during the forenoon exercises. When you need her to perform a therapy, call her comlink – any time." Jango let his gaze run over the audience slowly, and then raised his chin briefly. He had made clear from the start this wasn't a hearing and so there was no discussion or protest. "Move it."

'That was it?' Tomoe thought and tied her sleeves with a white strap crossing over her back. There were a lot of what-if's on her mind as she went through the calisthenics like everybody else.

"You can start with Mereel." Tomoe turned quickly - Kal had a way to move silently despite his limping. "I'll pick you up after breakfast. Don't be late," he tasked her.

People around seemed to relax, no longer regarding her as a stray cat in a pack of dogs, merely bartering whenever the _copikla_ silk poof's horizontal blade would fall out of the sheath or loose balance during the exercise. Their books were at 60/40. Of course it didn't, but Tomoe kept rolling her eyes secretly. On the other hand she had to admit that they were pretty laid back… for she had just tried to kill their boss. She wasn't their running gag?! At least she wasn't prancing around in a riot of colors that proudly announced 'I've been a tin can.'

" _Kyr ge'kaan!"_ While the ranks down in the theatre below halted and filed out orderly, the exercise on the platform broke up into purposeful chaos, every instructor heading in another direction. _"Su'cuy."_ Rav welcomed her back with a measured hand to elbow handshake. The girl looked good, a little pale maybe under the flush of the exercise on her cheeks. "Shower?" – "It's okay." Tomoe shook her head to prevent herself from screaming over the thunder of millions of armored feet. 'I'll go with my folks', she motioned.

Isabet came up behind her, slapped her back and closed the circle against colleagues who had still to make up their minds. This _atin'la_ little inn-keeper's _mandokarla_ would purge the flaws of their leader the way he needed. Her proven ability to make a lot of very little would cut, slap and screw that _shabla_ _or'trikar_ out of Fett and put him into the right state of mind.

No use to grief for _Jas'buir_ and others long gone in quarrels of old... while the _Mando'ade_ rose like phoenix from ashes. They would be the avant-garde, training the elite of this revolution! Ten millions of them, lead by experienced veterans and an inspired _Mand'alor_ were more than enough to put an end to any _aruetyc_ banking-, mechs- and trade-federation's separatist notions. With a couple of well placed strikes it was sufficient to take over the whole rotten-to-the-core republic. _Mando'ade_ would no longer fight stinking _aruetyc_ wars, from there on it would be the _aruetiise_ who would tackle the plain jobs for those who followed the noble way of the warrior.

"Welcome home, Tom'ika – you gotta tell us! Sergeant's room, after dinner?" Isabet proposed.

Tomoe gave Isabet a thumbs-up and hurried to return to the housing area with Jango and Boba. She hung her formal jacket to air, exchanged the sweat band and washed her face before she decided to shed the skirt pants as well and go for working pants and puttees. 'Silk poof, huh?' She rummaged through her little necessities box and found her massage fluid. She had no idea what exercising with Kal meant, but after two weeks, Mereel's muscles would have cramped fiercely in unwilling support of the wrong position.

.oOo.

Meanwhile Jango mended his own business. Appearing unmoved and calm on the outside, his helmet com was patched into the Cuy'val Dar's channel that was anything but silent. And he had to take his ARCs back and put them to work.

In the doc's absence, Priest had occupied Gilamar's time slots in the shooting range. The mere transgression on his patch alone was sufficient to stoke the conflict constantly smoldering between those two, but this time Bralor was unwilling to watch from the side line since she had been left with her own _and_ Gilamar's RCs on her hands, but no additional space to put them.

Confronted with the issue, Priest's excuse was that out of _pure generosity_ , he had accepted Vau's RCs, but Bravo's icy better-than-you attitude clashed with their own company's tenet of constantly testing one's limits to the max. Dred pretended that he couldn't turn his back on them unless he put each squad into a separate booth - whenever they should have been in the hall for hand-to-hand exercises according to the duty roster. Rav could have put her own RCs _there_ since she got along so well with Gilamar. How she synchronized that wasn't his problem...

Gilamar's ranting from the med-bay sort of proved Priest's point. The only positive factor was that it weren't the doc's own boys in the ward. Vau wasn't a happy camper, either, but Jango reckoned that Walon was saving it for the opportune moment. He could tell Priest had been waiting for years to get a chance to force Vau into a battle circle and put a dent into his Irmenu-upper-class attitude. Full circle, indeed.

"Go have a look into the med-bay before lunch, will you?" Jango mused to Tomoe on the way to the mess hall. To put the facts right was what worked best on Vau, but Gilamar probably wasn't a 100% safe with his _cyar'ika_ yet. "I meet you there at 1130." Then he commed Isabet privately and asked her to smack Dred one tonight for Rav and him. "Not for you, but for Rav," came the prompt reply with a sparkling laughter. The ol' boy would probably enjoy that tussle enough to put off any less savory plans.

"Let's have a really quick breakfast." Jango plopped down beside Llats and Kal. He staked his helmet under the table with the historian's while Tomoe and Boba had a seat. Good. The conflict between Tomoe and Llats seemed to be resolved. He knew his ARCs were well off with Kal, but he had never tried with Ward. " _Me'vaar ti gar_?" he asked for sitrep.

It turned out that the historian's method to keep the kids in line was serious physical training, particular instruction and... reading. Of course he had followed Fett's curriculum to the letter, yet he didn't mention that he had saved them their daily 'Born to serve the Republic' indoctrination.

Nothing evened out the differences between his close-knit squads and the single minded ARC-buddies like sitting on the floor together in a wide circle while he told them a story of their own descent. Fett was a selfish _chakaar,_ but Llats was convinced that he could plant seeds of his own. Fascinated boys would grow into men who gathered their own information, who would know more than others, who could make their own decisions and be strong enough to live with them.

.oOo.

Boba showed Tomoe how trays and dishwashing was mechanized here, and then sidled up with Kal like he did that every day. She briefly lifted her head to Jango who returned a court nod. Boba was probably better off with her this morning. She remembered what the boy had told her about the "Nulls": There were six of them. Neither Rav nor any other _Cuy'val Dar_ she knew had such a close, personal connection to their trainees. It looked like Jango had provided her with the most professional babysitter in town.

When she stepped past Kal's front door, there was little difference to Rav's quarter on the first look, but as they proceeded inside, it turned out that the inhabitants had cut through some walls to combine several apartments surrounding Skirata's into suite, a fox's den with several exits no doubt. Pristine black and white plastoid panels met durasteel welded on site. The place breathed the pure functionality of a control centre, and they had done a pretty good job as metalworkers.

Tomoe couldn't make out Prudii, but she could tell Mereel apart from his brothers because of his crooked stance. He didn't seem to be all excited to see her. "Good morning. I'm Tomoe Harada." She greeted the whole clan. The "Su'cuy" of the young voices sounded weary all around. Her bow wasn't answered but by one who wasn't Mereel - hello, Prudii – now she would have to monitor positions to keep that knowledge.

"How are you, Mereel?" she asked directly since he made no move. "Would you like me to have another look at your neck?"

Kal noticed on the first beat that Ordo was taking longer to inspect his side-arm than usual, his eyes locked on their guest. "Ord'ika?" He shook his head lightly as a 'leave it.' He was pretty sure Tomoe could feel the blood thirst surrounding the kid, but she made no move to avoid him.

"I'm fine." Mereel waved off her offer since she didn't command him. 'She better doesn't try that right now,' he thought with a look at Ordo.

"Alright." Tomoe instantly knew why. They were a band of brothers and Mereel would not use what his brother hated. She was in no position to force her way in there. "You can always send for me if it gets worse."

"Move it." Mereel slung his deece over a shoulder and reached for the helmet. He hated to be singled out. He was in pain nevertheless and needed to withdraw into the familiar surroundings of the HUD and his brother's voices on close-range com.

.oOo.

Kal took his family to the shooting range and Tomoe learned that there were even more kids requiring his constant attention like the Nulls, boys like Rav's, organized in neat squads. What was the difference? Certainly not their precision! Both the Nulls and RC's results walked all over her - but no problem, she told Mereel and Prudii, she was just a beginner. "Can't remember I've _ever_ been that off." Prudii noted on the Null's internal com channel, "...and _we_ were to be taken for reconditioning as deviant. That's not fair." – "She is not like us, in case you didn't notice." Ordo grumbled from another box and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

"What's that outside your inner, Jaing?" A'den turned his head from the target. His brother shifted his weight and checked his DC-17 again, then looked up in disbelief and sighted down again. "Eleven hits with just _ten_ shots - you can only dream of _that_ , A'den." Jaing gave back with a snort. Aden sighted down himself. His ten shots were all in the inner, so close together it made counting difficult. "Not mine," he attested... They weren't going to put such lapses on their flawless records, were they?

Two heads turned to the wall parting the booths in the shooting range - "Tomoe?!"

.oOo.

Kal promised to sort it out for them and made the distribution for the hand-to-hand classes, deciding to meet the problem head on. While Boba trained with Mereel to show N-7 he wasn't up to his usual standard, he put Ordo with his nemesis. Better see what happened while both of their hands were empty than otherwise. Ignoring the change of breathing on the intercom that announced his son's snarl, he continued to task the boys in front of him. To him, it did not matter that the neat formation fuzzed out with little Boba and Tomoe's willowy form in the corner. To a Kaminoan, they would stick out like a sore thumb.

Ordo didn't hesitate to plant his boot on the fact that she was an _aruetii_ and she was not welcome to train with them let alone to his family's home: her socked foot. 'Ouch.' Tomoe notified him with the dot audible. She wiggled her toes. He shrugged a shoulder 'Suits her right,' he hit rewind to get a more satisfying response out of her.

The second time, she could no longer blame it on a blunder on his part. "Can we stick to the moves of the exercise, please?" - "More efficiently this way." Ordo slapped down her objection with a pout that said 'Wimp.' – "Expect the unexpected," he added.

"You can hint it, but save my bones, will you? I'm not using your shortages, either." Ordo was convinced that he had no weakness. He was bred to be the best. Next time he put his boot down, it felt like he could have broken something. "Ordo!" He looked up at her boldly, 'Whatcha gonna do about it?', his boot stayed planted on her foot firmly.

Her eyes narrowed. She hated hitting children, but this couldn't continue. She had plenty of options to flaw his exercise as well, but he was a well trained, a strong and talented opponent. 'Leash out once and an open brawl ensues that ends in the ward for the two of us.' She thought and wondered 'For what?' No matter what, she had to do it _now_ or withdraw from training permanently.

'What the hell do I have to do to make you kick me back?' Ordo wondered. He was just waiting for her foot to withdraw and give it a try. It would allow him to unleash the anger eating him from the inside for weeks like a poisonous eel. If she got lucky and smacked him one - that was an acceptable price.

" _Stubborn brat,"_ Moro sighed when woken from her nap by a lightning bolt of pain shooting through her comfortable home, _"lemme lend you a hand, mommy."_

Tomoe didn't withdraw. She didn't kick _him_. She just stomped her heel. The impulse was so hard he could feel it through his armored sole. He didn't know that a mat could be kicked out from under both of his feet without a run-up... let alone up-end?! The rules of gravity kicked back in before he stopped wondering. The air was pressed out of the sandwich made from permacrete, a Null and the mat coming down on top of the pile.

"Rules _do_ have a practical use in an exercise." Tomoe lectured and put her sore foot down beside the other carefully at shoulder width.

Ordo scratched himself off the permacrete and scrambled out from under the up-ended mat with Aden's helpful hands picking it up on one side, "You okay?" The action had won them the immediate attention of his other brother's all over the hall, but it didn't look like she would use her opportunity for further attack while he was down. "How did you do that?" Ordo inquired.

Tomoe felt crimson excitement oozing in her blood stream. _"Wanna see how many I can juggle, mommy?"_ Moro seemed to have found a new game.

'Thanks, maybe next time.' Tomoe grabbed Ordo's wrist and pulled him to his feet, shoving him back into a balanced position before she let go. "Let's say I can kick harder than you if I choose to. Barefoot."

Ordo's eyes strayed briefly before A'den turned over the mat and dropped it with a thud. No hole in the permacrete, but he would investigate that treacherous mat later. He had the profound feeling that something in-natural was going on. Now it was his brothers coming for him as if he was needy. No, he didn't need help – but not because of his superb fighting abilities. No, she had answered his constant provocation like a tigress flattening her young with a paw... then washes it. A wave of heat rushed over his face.

Things didn't add up - something had slipped his notice and he really wasn't used that - but he had learned one thing: she felt pain the same way he did. 'Hmm...'

Standing by, Kal holstered his sidearm unobtrusively. He suspected that he had just uncovered the reason for her confidence; the girl had discovered an all new way to make up for the weight difference to Fett.

The rest of the exercise stayed uneventful drill until they went into free forms.

Ordo had plenty of experience with people who were solid muscle, none of them handicapped by useless weightlifting bulk, but he never met a person as flexible as Tomoe. He wasn't a Dug and he didn't plan to practice until he could lift his foot vertically over his head like she showed him in a training mock-up, but her technique was a treasure of fluent grace and detailed anatomical knowledge so he certainly filled his boots. His eidetic memory would enable him to share with his brothers later and sort out the useful content.

Kal announced a fifteen minutes break to rearrange themselves, then they would sit down for technical studies.

.oOo.

"C'mon, Ordo, what did she do?" Mereel caught his brother on the corridor. - "She hurt you." Ordo found himself suddenly thrown back from his attacking spree into a defending position - "Warming up ol' stories?" Mereel lifted his wrist. "Breaking into her home… how endearing! She helped me nevertheless, no questions asked. More than that - remember that scene with Ward? _Vod_ , I've never seen Fett that pissed. You said you liked her, back then."

"I was mistaken and you don't owe her. They wouldn't have taken you for questioning. You'd be fine by now." - "Okay, on with your over-interpretation: they were looking for her and _you_ and _Kal'buir_. So whose fault was it?" - " _She_ started it." - "Go on, make all the connections: _Fett_ started it. And who managed to anger Fett? Who chickened-out instead of letting her do her job? Me. You wanna kill me?"

"You're one step too far there. Remember what she did to Kal'buir?" - "That stroll? C'mon, a little fresh air doesn't hurt." - "An unacceptable risk." - "So what was our brothers' little ride-out under the _kaminyc_ bulging eyes?" - "Harada's just an amateur, you've seen her, she can't even shoot straight."

"I don't plan to let her fight for me, I just need her put my neck right. She has her uses unless you break something, _ner_ _vod_. C'mon, give her a chance. What about other _vode_ , want their reconditioning on your hands according to your logic? No? Then stop making an _aiwha_ from a _sea-mouse_."

"Alright. But she better does a good job." Ordo gave a grumbling consent. But Mereel was already on his way and he couldn't keep an eye on his brother without Kal'buir noticing.

.oOo.

Tomoe had suppressed the limp until the kids were out of sight behind the corner. Of course she wouldn't be loved by everybody from the start, but she couldn't fight them all? 'Bullied by an overgrown five year old - shame on you!' she ranted inwardly.

"Tomoe?" One of them had come back. 'Oh, not just anyone – Mereel', she recognized as he took off the helmet and brushed his short cropped black hair back in a copy of Kal's behavior. "Can we fix it now?"

"Sure." She reached for her comlink and asked Skirata to give her a break. It was granted since Kal had to give his company something to do before he could find out where she was and customize her exercises. "I just have to grab my stuff," she added to Mereel. To perform properly, she needed to be in control of herself and her surroundings, arrange things at will and most of all: feel some peace of mind. For that, she had to take back control of her live. Now.

Mereel hesitated to enter Fett's quarter while she tried to figure the antigrav slide, feeling very stupid again. "Do you know how this thing works?"

"Sure." Mereel retorted. He had no doubt that she was ambidextrous and knowledgeable, yet stumbling over the simplest things like the last _dikut_. Was that how civvie's were in general? Did she see him the same way? But then, he was no randomly conceived human. He was above-average, Kal told them so on a regular basis. Every record said so - if he wasn't off the scale. The average clone's 150% plus the Null-deviance above human standards. Then why did he feel so clumsy around her?

Her quarter had been cleaned, but otherwise it looked unchanged as she called on the lights. She leaned her _naginata_ into the corner inside the door and had a brief look around before she invited Mereel in. "Please strip to the waist," she advised, piled her stuff on the table then locked the door. Last thing she needed was an assault by Ordo while she was pulling on Mereel's neck. That brother's hate really gave her the creeps.

She turned around, laid her saber in the bed and looked through her bundles for the blanket as she noted IT. "What happened to your back, Mereel-chan?" she swallowed. Several bluish green streaks were etched into his skin. "That..."

He swiftly turned to her. They were on his upper arms and waist as well. "It will go away," his hands were up in a 'keep out' gesture. She recognized that defiant stare well enough to know that running against that permacrete bar was useless.

She shook out the blanket to give the boy a break then did her checks and invited him to sit. "Blockades down to... here... again." She prodded his mid back lightly. "You know the routine – cross arms..." She gathered the kid against her chest, pulled and resolved the blockades one by one. Mereel winced at the sound, but the pops didn't sound as load and 'clean' as last time. He stood and rolled his neck. "Better. Thank you," he decided anyway and grabbed his shirt.

Tomoe studied his movement. "Better yes, but not good yet. Relax, that's just your cramped muscles acting up. Pace around a little, then lay face down." Her palm pointed at the padded blanket she had folded half and placed on the ground. 'Huh?' She gave him no details, but left for the bathroom.

This new development made him uncomfortable. He felt vulnerable with the bruises on his back. Would she touch them, ask further questions? Ordo was waiting for him to turn up _soon_. On the other hand, he knew that look on her face when she returned with a towel. It meant 'I know what's good for you, son.' So far, she had never applied force – it didn't look like she was going to give it a try now – but she had always kept the last word.

' _Mar'e_!' She left his bruises alone, her touch was gentleness impersonated but carried a defined firmness that told him that she knew what she was doing, that there was nothing to worry about in the world. 'I still have a question,' his curiosity was revived as the pain was taken off his mind. Was that normal? He hadn't taken a painkiller. What happened to the mat in hand-to-hand practice had little to do with the physics that went for them. He was the chancier among his brothers, so he would put forwards the question they didn't dare to ask:

"Are you a Jedi?" he blurted out under his slow steady breath.

"I'm not," she answered him in tune with her movement. He suddenly wasn't sure if he was asking for clarification or just to make her tell him _something_. Her voice it raised his hackles, it was exotic and familiar at the same time. Soft when his father's was rough. She was different and proud of it, using paint to modify her face further. He could tell it had some effect by monitoring _Kal'buir_ whokept looking at her differently than he acted around Bralor.

"What are you?" – "I'm your therapist." Mildly amused, she stated the obvious and finally, Mereel allowed himself to relax. She made herself smell differently, too. Of plants – he recognized that – but unlike the rotten seaweed clinging to the stilts of Tipoca-city at low tide. The foreign, alluring scent rested on his palate and penetrated his skin. He felt... funny.

Tomoe spread a towel over his shoulders and stood, shifting the weight from her sore foot on her fists. "You stay where you are for another ten minutes. Then you drink this." She placed a glass beside him. Water, his befuddled mind recognized "Slowly... before you go for lunch," she reminded him to ease his mind back into the here-and-now.

It didn't look like _she_ felt funny in any way. The contact with Ordo's boot had just left a slight limp that disturbed her graceful movement when she moved around unpacking her bundles and storing clothing in the built-in closet of her little quarter. It wasn't clumsy, no, it was endearing since it reminded him of Kal. Of course he would heed to Kal'buir's advice... until he had gathered some experience on the case himself. He would mind his proper distance to the dangerous being and enshrine her incomparable image from afar, unknowingly giving it deeper influence – because there was no other.

Every woman in his life would have to compare to the exaggerated ideal forming in his mind. The one he would always want and never reach.


End file.
